


Then It Echoes A Spark

by raimykeller



Series: Sterek Week 2017 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Laura Hale, Angst, Derek heals, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, First Kiss, M/M, Mates, Mentioned Deaths of Peter & Laura, Original Character(s), Peter survived and lived with Derek & Laura in NY, Sad Derek, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Sterek Week 2017, The fire happened, feral omega, sterekalphaemissary, sterekmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-23 00:54:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12494764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raimykeller/pseuds/raimykeller
Summary: Derek becomes Alpha after the deaths of his sister and uncle. He returns to Beacon Hills and becomes a feral omega's next target. Little does he know, Beacon Hills' resident Emissary, Stiles Stilinski, has his back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ Sterek Week 2017 ](http://sterekweek2017.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Theme: Alpha & Emissary
> 
> (Title comes from the song "Flicker" by Niall Horan)

Derek had been running for what felt like hours. Even with his werewolf stamina, he was losing steam. It wouldn’t be long now with the rogue omega on his trail. He should just give up. Let the omega settle whatever vendetta he had against the Hale family, let him take his life like he had taken the life of his sister and uncle - the only family Derek had left after the fire. 

When Laura and Peter had left to take care of some business in Beacon Hills a week ago, Derek had no idea the trip would leave him completely alone in the world. But he had woken up in the middle of the night, blood boiling, eyes burning alpha-red, feeling too big for his small New York apartment. 

Heart-broken and aware of what was waiting for him in the sleepy town he had grown up in, he made his way across the country in hopes of laying Laura and Peter to rest. 

He found their bodies strewn carelessly in the woods behind the burnt remains of his childhood home. With a heavy heart, he buried them next to his mother and father, brothers and sisters. He truly was alone now. 

He was ready to leave Beacon Hills behind for good when the feral omega showed up, too far gone to even stay fully human, blood-soaked clothing ripped and tattered, eyes bright blue. And then the chase began. 

Derek was tired. 

In his fatigue, he slipped on a tree root, a costly mistake in the race for his life. He sprawled out next to a large tree stump, and he could feel the magic like electricity in the air around him. The Nemeton.

A fitting place to die, he thought bitterly, as the omega stepped into the clearing, gnashing its teeth and howling into the wind. Derek closed his eyes and waited, bracing himself for the claws that would tear him apart. 

“This is it, Hale,” the omega spat. “No one in the world left to mourn you, no one to say goodbye to. No one to care or miss you when you’re gone,” he said with a vicious laugh. “You’re all alone!”

“Guess again, motherfucker!” The voice came out of the shadows, and Derek looked up to see a young man, hands crackling with red and yellow sparks, step from behind the trees. “I am Mieczsław Stilinski, Emissary of Beacon Hills, Keeper of the Nemeton, and you, omega, are not welcome here!” 

The man-Mieczsław-pressed his hands down on the Nemeton, calling up magic like Derek had never seen, magic that burst through the air in a brilliant display of reds and golds and rushed through him, curling in his chest, reviving his strength and making his eyes glow brilliantly.

It was power like he had never experienced before.

He wasted no time lunging at the omega, ripping the head from its body. And then it was over. Derek collapsed to his knees, reeling with the finality of it all, knowing he had won but feeling loss all over again. 

Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder; it sent a tiny spark of electricity through his body. 

“Alpha Hale,” the man spoke softly. “Please come with me. I’ll take you to my home; you’ll be safe there.”

Derek moved on autopilot, trusting this man he had barely just met like it was second nature. 

He was taken to a modest home in the suburbs, handed a change of clothes and sent to shower. When he emerged fresh and clean, he was ushered into the living room and given a hot meal. As he ate, the man finally spoke again. 

“I know you probably have a lot of questions, but let’s start with the obvious. Yes, my name is Mieczysław, but that is a nightmare to have to say, so please call me Stiles.

“I am Emissary of Beacon Hills, I took over a few years ago when Alan Deaton officially retired.” Stiles stopped talking when Derek looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I knew him. He was my mom’s...” Derek choked on his words, but Stiles knew. 

“Yes,” he said softly. “I have known Deaton my whole life, but I never met your family. I was only 12 when the fire happened. My dad- he’s the Sheriff- he told me about what happened. When my spark presented, Deaton took me under his wing and taught me. He knew you would be back. He told me Beacon Hills would have an Alpha again, and I would need to be ready,” Stiles frowned, looking down at his hands. 

“I thought it was Laura. When she came to town last week, I was so excited. I had no idea where that omega came from, or how he knew she was here. Derek,” Stiles reached over and laid his hand tentatively on Derek’s forearm. “I am so sorry for your loss. And I am sorry I could not save her, or your uncle.” 

Derek looked up into the whiskey brown eyes that sparkled even in the dim light of the room. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered. 

“It’s not yours either,” Stiles countered.

Derek sighed, feeling the weight of the past week’s events heavy on his shoulders again. 

“Come on,” Stiles said, standing and offering Derek a hand. “We can finish talking in the morning. You need to rest.”

Derek took his hand without thinking, and he immediately felt the sadness that clouded his mind clear away. 

“How do you do that?” he asked as they climbed the stairs.

“What?”

“When you touch me, I feel... “ Derek searched for the right words but came up empty. He shook his head and shrugged, “I feel okay again.” 

Stiles smiled and opened a door at the end of the hallway.

“Is it an Emissary thing?” Derek’s mom never spoke of her and Deaton’s relationship. He had no idea what the bond between the two was like. But he did know of the bond between his parents, how much they relied on even the smallest of touches, the simplest of physical contact, and how happy they were when they were right beside each other.

Stiles pushed Derek towards the bed. “This is probably a conversation we should have after you’ve rested a bit.”

“No, Stiles, please tell me. Who are you, to me?”

“I’m your Emissary,” he started, but that wasn’t good enough for Derek anymore. 

“I know,” he interrupted. “But there’s obviously more to it. What aren’t you telling me?” Derek was getting frustrated. Stiles sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Derek down with him and letting his hand brush up and down Derek’s arm, coaxing open his hand, and threading his fingers through Derek’s. Derek calmed down instantly.

“It’s because we’re mates, Derek.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite finding out that he and Stiles are mates, Derek returns to New York. He learns how to heal and he learns how to come back to Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [ Sterek Week 2017 ](http://sterekweek2017.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Theme: Mates

The events of the past 24 hours replayed in Derek’s head the entire trip back to New York. 

He had left Stiles standing on his front porch, sadness and pity radiating off him in waves but Derek ignored them. Selfishly, he wanted to go back to his apartment, job, and life in New York. He wanted to forget everything that had happened in Beacon Hills. 

He wasn’t wrong to want that, was he? There was so much loss tangled up in those sleepy streets. He knew it was foolish to believe that being tied to that boy, that emissary, would make things better. 

Derek needed time and space. He needed to heal, in his own way, in a way that mattered to him. Stiles had understood, or at least he said he did. That didn’t stop the hurt from flashing across his face or the bitter stench of it overtaking the spicy magic and inherent smell of Stiles that usually permeated the air around him. 

Derek thought back to the conversation they had on the guest bed. Stiles calmly and carefully explained the meaning of mates, how it’s an exceedingly rare werewolf trait, one that used to be more prominent when their packs needed to grow and prosper. Hundreds of years later, and that need has subsided, so while mates are rare, they aren’t unheard of. 

Stiles explained that it isn’t something that is spoken about freely. That only those that have mates even know about it anymore, and that his parents likely would have talked about it with him when he and Stiles presented as mates. Because that’s the thing about mates, no matter what happens in your life, you’re going to find them. If things had been different, if the fire hadn’t destroyed his life, if he had lived an average, practically normal life, he still would have met Stiles.

It was a lot to take in. Stiles could tell Derek was overwhelmed at the new information, at suddenly having a mate of all things. So Stiles helped Derek lay back on the bed, he spoke to him in low tones, and ran his fingers through his hair until Derek fell asleep. 

The next morning, he woke at dawn, knowing exactly what he needed to do. It wasn’t easy to explain to Stiles. But here he was, on an eastbound flight, struggling to make sense of his life. He closed his eyes and let the dull chatter of the other passengers lull him into a fitful rest, nothing like the way Stiles had eased him into sleep, but he couldn’t let himself remember that right now. He had to forget Stiles. 

It had barely been a few days since he returned to New York that he realized maybe forgetting Stiles was an impossible task. He longed for the Emissary in more ways than one. He craved the boy’s touch, he felt like he was starving for it. But Derek was nothing if not a stubborn asshole. 

He ignored the constant headaches and the aches in his bones. Stiles hadn’t said anything about physical ailments when mates were separated. He was probably just imagining things. 

Derek kept up the rouse that everything was perfectly normal. He met back up with the New York pack his sister had been friendly with. He went back to his menial job at the NYU library. He met with his lawyers and filed all the right paperwork that showed he was the last surviving Hale. He moved the Hale money into a bank that had a branch in Beacon Hills (for absolutely no reason at all). 

He didn’t sell the Preserve land.

He let another few months go by, all while keeping up a semblance of normalcy. He adopted a cat and named her Jane. 

Sometimes it was harder to pretend he was okay. Sometimes he had to call in sick, order his and Laura’s and Peter’s usual takeout order (that he wouldn’t end up even touching), and lay on the couch. Jane would curl up beside him, and he would run his hands through her orange fur and let the tears he always kept inside slip down his cheeks. 

It took a few more months before those days became few and far between, before he felt like he was better, healing. 

He made a few friends in the New York City pack; a bright eyed, blonde haired beta named Erica and her model-like but stoic boyfriend, another beta, who liked to be called Boyd. 

Their friendship helped to bring him to the right side of okay; he almost felt happy when he was with them. But he knew in his soul there was only one thing that would make him truly happy. 

It had been a year since he had seen Stiles, since he had felt the warmth of his hand clutching his arm or his fingers gently carding through his hair. 

He still craved Stiles’ touch. Of all the things that had changed over the last year, that one had remained the same. He longed to even hear his mate’s voice, to see and smell and know that he was okay, that he was his. 

The decision to move back to Beacon Hills was the easiest decision he made all year. Erica and Boyd expressed interest in following him there, of starting their own pack. So with that promise, he boarded the plane that would take him home, to Stiles. 

His heart was racing as he knocked on Stiles’ front door. He didn’t know if Stiles had moved on, if he could move on. God, he didn’t even know if he was home, much less willing to open his heart back up to him. He had hope, though, and that was more than he had in a long time. 

The big oak door swung open and Stiles was in front of him for the first time in more than a year. Derek couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat, his eyes widened, his jaw dropped at his mate’s beauty. For the first time, he mapped the moles on his cheekbones and the way his hair looked sleep-mussed and so soft. He wanted to run his fingers through it. 

Stiles was surprised to see him, but the corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile. 

“Hi,” Derek started. He wasn’t sure where to even start. He shrugged his shoulders nervously. 

“Hi,” Stiles replies, voice lilting a hint of amusement. 

“I back. In Beacon Hills. For good. I, uh, was hoping you’d like to show me around?” 

“Not much has changed since you left.”

Derek’s traitorous heart stopped for a moment. He stammered, “I understand if you want nothing to do with me. But I’m better now. I’m more, me. I wouldn’t have been good for you a year ago. But I hope to be now. If you’ll give me the chance.”

Stiles smiled, stepping closer and reaching out to take Derek’s hand and tangle their fingers together. Immediately, Derek felt at peace, he felt loved. 

“For the record,” Stiles whispered, moving closer and reaching his other hand up to cup Derek’s cheek with his soft, warm hands. “You’re always going to be good for me.”

Derek closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Stiles’ in a sweet kiss that tasted like a promise, like a future, like them. 

And he was ready for what the future held for them. He was ready to create a new family for himself. He was ready to know and love and cherish his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m slightly drunk so mistakes are likely. Sorry for that. I’ll edit when I’m sober.


End file.
